I was remembering a funny incident today.

When I was two or three, my mom painted a mural on our living room wall, a Roman scene. When I woke up by myself before anyone, I thought it was ugly. So I dipped the sponge in the fish tank, and wiped off all the paint! She, of course, freaked out and screamed profanity at me. But she didn't hit me. Just ranted about what a brat I was. . I was pleased with myself for doing it, though, it really was hideous.

I actually do remember what it looked like and what I was thinking when I washed it off. What a memory, huh? I really thought it was hideous and I purposely ruined it. I really am a brat.